"Where are the visions that round me once hovered,

  "Forms that shed grace from their shadows alone;

"Looks fresh as light from a star just discovered,

  "And voices that Music might take for her own?"

Time, while I spoke, with his wings resting o'er me,

  Heard me say, "Where are those visions, oh where?"

And pointing his wand to the sunset before me,

  Said, with a voice like the hollow wind, "There."

Fondly I looked, when the wizard had spoken,

  And there, mid the dim-shining ruins of day,

Saw, by their light, like a talisman broken,

  The last golden fragments of hope melt away.